


The Lady Doth Protest

by Janina, mynameisnoneya



Series: At Her Majesty's Service [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Jaime Lannister Lives, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Jon Snow is a Mess, Love Triangles, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: When she talked Jaime into their little arrangement all those months ago, she’d assumed they were nothing more than two lost souls seeking comfort, a pair of lonely hearts too broken and abused to open themselves up to the possibility of finding love again.  The idea that he might fall for her never crossed her mind.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, past Jon Snow/Sansa Stark - Relationship
Series: At Her Majesty's Service [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002744
Comments: 40
Kudos: 84





	The Lady Doth Protest

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the seventh in the series, _At Her Majesty's Service_ , a collaborative effort by mynameisnoneya and Janina. It can be read on its own, but we recommend reading it after the other six previous works to help it all make sense!
> 
> Please note that we made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not.
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - we own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let us know by leaving comments and kudos!

Sansa blinks.

_I couldn’t bear to see you with him._

Her eyes widen as Jaime’s words sink in.

_Because I’m in love with you, Sansa._

A moment or three passes by where they won’t look away, each one searching the other’s face for an answer that just isn’t there.

“Jaime, I . . .” She falters, unable to continue. Her traitorous voice has evaporated, her thoughts and feelings and emotions crashing together into one huge, messy heap, and it is her unintended hesitation which brings forth the Jaime she knows all too well - the one who wields his finely-honed sarcasm like the sword he carries.

“Breathe, Sansa,” he says, breaking the awkward silence hanging between them. “You’ve forgotten to breathe.” He gently squeezes her hand, and the corner of his mouth lifts in that playful way of his when he is trying to make her smile. “Don’t force me to explain to the Council why Your Grace fainted in my presence. Unless, of course, it involves us getting undressed, which in such case, I’d be delighted to orate on your behalf.”

She laughs despite herself, shaking her head and releasing the very breath she’d been guilty of holding. “I do believe you’re the most incorrigible man I’ve ever known,” she says, squeezing his hand in return.

“You may be correct, my lady, though I dare say I’ve been called much worse.”

She smiles, her free hand lifting to stroke his cheek, and when he leans into her touch, her heart aches to reciprocate the love he just confessed. His expression is lodged somewhere between one of hope and fear as he kneels before her, still as one of the statues in the crypt. She longs to ease his mind, but she cannot. She cannot tell him that she reciprocates his feelings when she is uncertain of what she feels for anyone anymore. Jaime deserves more than a handful of empty promises and false hope.

“In the time we have come to know one another,” she begins, “I have grown very fond of you, Jaime.”

“’Fond of me?’ Like a puppy? Or a court jester, perhaps?”

Her mouth tightens when he snorts. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You know perfectly well what.” Sansa sighs heavily. “Just listen, please?”

Jaime says nothing but nods.

“As I was saying . . . I am fond of you. Wait. More than fond of you, actually. I care about you. Really, I do. So much so that I cannot imagine you not being a part of my life now.” She hesitates then, searching for the right words. “I need you, Jaime. I need you with me . . . by me . . . but . . .”

“But needing me isn’t quite the same as loving me, is it?”

For the first time since he knelt before her, she looks away. “I suppose not.”

“I see.” Jaime inhales and exhales slowly. “I understand.” He begins to rise, but before he clambers to his feet, Sansa grips his hand with all her might, halting him in place.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes welling with tears when she meets his gaze. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’d love nothing more than to tell you what you want to hear, but it would be wrong of me to do so if I can’t.”

His smile returns, and he lifts her hand to his lips once again. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, love,”

“But I - ”

“ – never made any vows to me or claimed that what we shared would become anything more than what it began.”

The resignation in his voice ties her stomach into knots. “Oh, Jaime . . . if only I could . . . if we . . .”

“It was I who went and fell in love. You owe me nothing, Sansa. Nothing at all. You are Queen of the North and I . . . well, I am and will always be your humble servant.”

Her eyes widen. “Surely you must know that you mean far more to me than that!”

“What I know is that I’ve been a lonely, old fool to think that you might one day want me as your . . . your . . .”

Her ginger brows pinch together when instead of finishing his thought, he sighs yet again. “Want you as my what?

“Your husband.”

Her mouth gapes. When she talked Jaime into their little arrangement all those months ago, she’d assumed they were nothing more than two lost souls seeking comfort, a pair of lonely hearts too broken and abused to open themselves up to the possibility of finding love again. The idea that he might fall for her never crossed her mind.

Yet truth be told, a strong bond has blossomed between the unlikely lovers, one which transcends the purely physical side of things. His sense of humor and his forthrightness have endeared him to her, and she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t come to rely on his advice more than ever now. Jaime isn’t just a means to scratch an itch until the lords of the North finally get their way and convince her to marry someone who is “worthy” of her title.

“Jaime, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing.”

“But I don’t want to lose you!”

“You won’t.”

She is baffled by the certainty of his reply. “I won’t?”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“Truth.” She scoffs in disbelief, her eyes darting to her lap again. “I’m not sure if I know what ‘truth’ is anymore.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Sansa. Not once while we’ve been together.”

Hearing him use her given name makes her eyes snap upwards in an instant. There’s a seriousness to his voice that makes her regret letting her thoughts out into the open.

“I don’t doubt you mean what you say right now,” she tries to reassure him, “but it’s just that. . . well, I can’t believe you’d actually want to stay here . . . with me . . .”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because . . .” she sputters, her mind not keeping pace with her heart, so she chooses to open up and let go. “Because not even an hour ago, Jon told me he wants a second chance, but instead of telling him ‘yes,’ all I could say was, ‘I’ll think about it.’ And now here you kneel, declaring your love for me, but I can’t say it back.” She laughs then, a bittersweet, mournful sort of laugh as the complete irony of her day washes over her. “So, yes, Jaime, I ask: why would you stay with me?” A tear trickles down her flushed cheeks. “How could you want to be with a woman who doesn’t even know what – or who - she wants?”

The room is pregnant with silence. While digesting what she’s told him, Jaime stares at her, the awe-struck look of wonder overtaking him just like it did the very first time she’d shed her shift and small clothes in his presence.

“Well?” she huffs, impatient for him to reply because any second now, it will all click into place for him. He’ll finally understand that she is utterly confused, and before she can stop him, he’ll be packing his rucksack and riding off for Dorne or for Essos or anyplace other than Winterfell to escape the vast wilderness of her indecisiveness.

She’s shocked when instead of walking away, his entire face lights up.

“You aren’t sure about Jon.” Jaime’s lips curl and curl. “You don’t know what you want and with whom.”

“Why in the world are you acting like that’s good news?”

He says nothing for a few seconds before he laughs aloud and hops to his feet. “Because it means I still stand a chance!”

“Wait - what?"

Without warning he’s stooping to plant a kiss on her forehead and dashing to the door like he’s late to his own funeral.

“Jaime, where are you going?” she asks, her brows wrinkling just like her nose in her confusion. He wheels around to face her, exuding excitement, and she’s even more baffled by his behavior than before.

“I’m going to win your heart, my lady,” he replies with a wicked wink. And before she has a chance to reply, he’s rushing out the door, whistling the whole way down the corridor.

 _What in the world is he up to?_ she thinks to herself, shaking her head yet grinning at the wide-open door.


End file.
